


An Absolute

by intergalacticscum



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: But really! They love each other, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, I just like to torture you guys, I just love him, I swear they will touch eventually, Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, Light Angst, Making up star wars planets, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Reader-Insert, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Some original plot lines will probably be messed up/changed to make it all work but you know, This is my first slow burn so I am excited, Young Obi-Wan Kenobi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:47:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25725373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intergalacticscum/pseuds/intergalacticscum
Summary: Maybe you were made for solitude after all. The gentle caress of loneliness greeted you at every turn, and who were you to deny her hands the warm embrace of your body.But how did Obi-Wan make you seek out his own embrace? Recoiling at the hands of solitude and yearning for the lasting feeling of togetherness. You were a Queen in your own right, a fair leader. He was a Jedi sent to protect you. He couldn't be with you even if he had wanted to. It was against the Jedi Code, and he was an honorable man. But something in him shifted too, you both knew it. Maybe two solitary beings aren't solitary at all. Unable to escape the thought that you have known each other, made for one another in lifetimes before. An absolute.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Reader, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Reader, Obi-Wan Kenobi/You
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	An Absolute

Kiraeia was, by comparison, a small planet. A central planet, with fertile lands and a swelling economy, but small nonetheless. Its modest size, however, was hard-pressed to hold your fiery reputation. When you were born, people and creatures around the galaxy came to watch in celebration. Your influence existed from the moment your skin glowed in the light of the day and followed you to where you stood now. 

You had been Queen only a year, coming of age in a time of unrest and questioning in the Galactic Senate. Truthfully, it was a time of unrest in the entirety of the galaxy, though your power in the senate rose in prominence before you were ever Queen. Those who agreed with you used your influence to their advantage, your voice and your beliefs alive in the Senate despite your physical absence from it, but it was in those who opposed your beliefs where you found enemies. Your influence threatened them, threatened what they wanted to achieve. A target had been on your back since you were young, placed there by the whispers of those who opposed you. You held no true place in the Senate, but your hushed words of power and your calculated planning made them think of you as a danger, as a problem that required eliminating. Their threats were usually only limited to their words, few were brave enough to act upon what they said. 

But some still did. Troubled planets with corrupt leaders who believed you to be the origin of all their issues. Finding misguided confidence and attempting to strike. Most failed without even a whisper of it reaching you, some made it closer. Nearly none of these plans of revenge made their way to you. Until one did. A botched attempt at taking you hostage carried out at the orders of a greedy official, planets away. It was over before it even really began, but the proximity of success was far too close for comfort. Fear washed over your parents like waves in a storm. You were not one to worry as they did, but even you couldn’t deny the way you suddenly felt as though every pair of unfamiliar eyes now peered at you with certain cruelty. You found yourself looking over your shoulder at every sudden noise, searching for a threat in the familiar halls of the palace in which you had grown up. 

This didn’t mean you needed to be protected.

You protested the idea from the first time they suggested it to you. Your council of advisors thought it wise, but you thought it weak, an acceptance of your fragility. Only those who can’t protect themselves needed a Jedi Knight to watch over them. Your parents insisted on the protection, your council advised it, but you opposed it, and you weren’t one to hide your opinions.

“I don’t need to be taken care of like a child,” Your words escaped with a harshness you didn’t intend for. You saw your mother wince at the hostility that was blatant in your expression before speaking

“I know—we all know— you don’t need to be taken care of,” Her words flowed with a sweetness you had always been jealous of, everything sounded fair when she said it, “But this isn’t about being taken care of. This is about protection.” Her voice was laced with seriousness, but the kindness she spoke with was never betrayed. You silently cursed her for it, her ability to deny any callousness into her voice, something you were known for. You had been brash and defensive your whole life, but your mother never was. She was soft-spoken and gentle. 

You looked around you, scanning the apprehensive expressions of your council surrounding the wooden table you sat in front of. The deep wood beneath your hands was familiar, sometimes more familiar than the faces now watching you. You had grown up with this council, trusted their advice, heeded their guidance, but as you’ve gotten older, you have felt your desire to antagonize their views grow. With this desire also grew guilt, a deep and all-consuming feeling of shame. You trusted these people, and yet you chose to act indignantly towards nearly everything they had to say, every piece of advice they provided you. Your mother tried to reassure you that this change came with growth. Growth in your beliefs, in your values, but also growth in your power. But you didn’t know if you believed her. You desperately wanted to be a good person, and you feared deeply that you were not. 

This feeling of guilt, climbing into your throat and threatening to consume you, was what truly twisted your arm into agreeing to the protection they suggested. The desire to appease despite your compulsion to dismiss their suggestion with an air of spitefulness ultimately ruled over your decision. Your approval was met with an air of success from your council, you were quick to recognize their obvious feelings of victory, a feeling that seemed less frequent every day. 

Your approval was all they needed, the council was dismissed, the choice had been made. Your exit was swift, and fearing your own decision to turn back on the agreement you had just made, you found yourself headed down the halls, the ground beneath you smoothed by centuries of footsteps just like yours. Nearing your own door, you felt like a stranger inviting themself in. You didn’t belong here, you were too harsh, too cold, a paradox in the warm walls of the palace in which you lived. Your mother had seemed to glow when she was Queen. She tried to tell you her tenderness never allowed for a voice, that you were lucky in the influence you held, but you had always felt she was wrong. Your mother, though gentle, was artful. Her words always filled the room. Reverberated off the walls and made their way into the minds of even the most powerful leaders. You held your own, had an influence, but your voice didn’t snake its way into the subconscious of those around you as your mother’s did. Instead, it hung in the air like a threat. Your influence existed because you held the command of those around you. They didn’t fear you, rather, they knew it not wise to falter at your words, as though they were aware of some form of rage lying in wait. You would never understand why they believed this, your rage was quiet, nothing at all like they suspected it was. 

You left your room only at the words of the small maid who was sent to fetch you to eat. At the table sat only you with your father and mother. You felt no rush to speak, studying instead the wrinkles by your father’s eyes that seemed to grow deeper with each passing meal. Though it seemed dinner was becoming the only meal spent together. Your love for your parents never wavered, nor did theirs for you, but you always felt as though you were better suited as a solitary creature. Never cursed to be alone, you had friendships and passing lovers, you merely felt most understood by yourself rather than by others. You did speak, eventually, over the clash of forks on plates and through sips of the sweet wine from cups that never seemed to empty. Casual niceties that any parents and child could exchange, though not in a way that seemed impersonal. Dinner was quiet, it seemed, simply because not much was to be said, and it ended plainly. Each person left to their own devices. And so, you found yourself back in the achingly familiar walls of your room. 

The knocks never took long. Four swift raps on the door and you knew it was him. You hadn’t known he was on Kiraeia, though you were never sure where he was until he knocked. A passing lover, as you would say, though one that seems to have stayed longer than most. A friend may be a better-suited term, yet friends don’t often fall into bed together. 

“Fein,” You seemed to breathe his name as you opened the door, his crooked smile his own hello back. When you had first met him, you never worried much about how he made his way through the halls and to your room, it seemed that smugglers were born knowing their way around. You hadn’t truly met him in these halls but rather beyond the walls of the palace. A day otherwise unremarkable. Perhaps you were reading, though you can’t say you remember, but what you do remember is that crooked smile that he still greets you with. A swift introduction and quick banter, a conversation that one could easily take as flirting. That same night he found himself at your door. _A visitor,_ he called himself. This was before you were Queen. 

And here you two were, years later playing the same game. You didn’t love him, not in any way that mattered, but you appreciated his company and the simple satisfaction he provided. You would be a fool to believe he felt any different than you did, and so began a routine between you two. A dance of two lone creatures who found each other in brief passings. That was all.'

“I heard about that butchered kidnapping,” He had already made his way to the edge of your bed, sitting down before continuing, “Are you okay?” Sincerity was clear in his voice, but you found the question a bit futile.

“Clearly,” You replied with a swift gesture towards your own body, a means to say, _I’m standing here, aren’t I?_

“You’re always the same,” He seems to decide this as he looks at you, “Even when I think you won’t be.” The words might sting, had they come from someone else, but the arrogant grin as he speaks tells you he means this as no insult, but rather as an observation. He was always the same, too. 

“It was nothing, a plan made in Cato Neimoidia can hardly be considered a plan,” You spoke of the corrupt planet with little regard, they had been whispering propositions of your downfall for years. You weren’t surprised when you found out it was there where the hostage proposal originated. You walked closer to him, “Though, the council has made me consider the protection of the Jedi.”

“And have you?”

"I have. And I agreed,” You told him, his expression said all he needed to. He was surprised at your compliance with the proposition of protection, he had grown familiar with the usual defiance of your council. But it seemed he saw no reason to question it, instead he was pulling you towards him. You hadn’t realized your proximity to him had become nearly nonexistent as you had spoken, he always had a way of doing that. And so you fell into bed with him, as you had done hundreds of times before. Contented with the familiar callouses of his hands and the intimate shape of his body. You lie awake after, the moonlight through the window paling his skin and wonder if you could love him. 

_No_ , you decide, _you don’t think you could. Not even if you wanted to._

**Author's Note:**

> First Obi-Wan work! Super excited for this one! But fair warning, I am planning to make this a sloooow burn. Pride and Prejudice level slow burn. 
> 
> I know Obi-Wan isn't in this chapter, but I essentially wanted to just establish things here!! He WILL be here next chapter, I promise!!! Please let me know what you think!! Comment any thoughts or feelings you have, I would LOVE to hear them!!!! Thank you so much for reading!! :)


End file.
